


A Cat By Any Other Name

by BullySquadess



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Brief mention of dysphoria, Coming Out, Gen, I didn't write this with any ship in mind but theres Love Square if you squint, Trans Man Adrien, commission, its in the beginning and very easy to skip, post-Ladynoir reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-20 01:41:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20667215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BullySquadess/pseuds/BullySquadess
Summary: A Trans Adrien fic commissioned by @Chatonfils.





	A Cat By Any Other Name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chatonfils](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chatonfils/gifts).

> CONTENT WARNING: Brief depiction of dysphoria at the very beginning. Skip to the break if you'd rather bypass it.

It’d been one of those nights.

One of those nights where Adrien’s brain felt entirely disconnected from his body; Where no matter how deeply he breathed his lungs still felt half-empty; Where he paced the bathroom tiles for what seemed like hours before confronting his reflection in the vanity mirror. Straw blonde hung limply around his face, seeming entirely out of place as it brushed past his shoulders. It felt foreign. Fake. Like it hadn’t actually grown from his scalp over the span of months and years and was instead some strange, alien topiary that’d sprouted overnight.

A dead weight he couldn’t bear to carry a second more.

\---

The _ schnict _ of scissors was infinitely satisfying as it echoed off the white tiled walls. Musical, almost. Adrien started with just the ends, snipping little more than a centimeter off the bottom and marveling at how they fell like confetti into the sink basin and down the drain. He wasn’t aiming for any particular style. Not a bob. Not a pixie cut. None of the fashionable cuts his stylists had tried talking his father into when Adrien expressed his desire for a shorter, more <strike> masculine </strike>manageable hairdo. 

_ “Photographers like your long hair.” _

_ Snip! _ Another centimeter gone.

_ “Besides, you look so much like your mother.” _

Two centimeters more.

_ “Why would you want to change that?” _

Three, four, five more centimeters of hair. On and on until Adrien felt cold, dulled steel nick against the skin behind his ears.

(He didn’t want to change himself. Not really. He loved himself, even in the moments that self sat buried beneath the image of what others said he should be. Adrien just wanted everyone else to see him for the person he’d always known he was, so they could love him too.)

Finally, after an indeterminate amount of time chopping away, Adrien laid his scissors down, craning his head every which way to survey his work. It was short. Terribly, _ wonderfully _ short, with even the longest strands just barely making it past his cheekbones. There were a few patchy sections in the back that he’d cut way too close to the scalp, as well as a number chunky locks that stuck out comically from the sides of his head, and the style itself bore more resemblance to a scarecrow whose head was losing its stuffing than last month’s Teen Vogue Covergirl.

In short, it looked bad.

And Adrien _ adored it. _

Too giddy to even consider the amount of trouble he would be facing, Adrien beamed at his disheveled reflection. His reflection beamed right back.

* * *

“New haircut,” Queen Bee observed in-lieu of a proper greeting, surrounded by the rest of Team Miraculous as they waited for their co-leader to arrive for patrol. The group turned as Chat Noir touched down on the roof beside them, a few curious eyebrows raising at his changed appearance. “Looks kinda scruffy to me, but at least you finally decided to stop stealing my look.”

Chat rolled his eyes, projecting an aloof sort of playfulness despite the ever-present knot in his stomach. “New gender, actually. And how many times do I have to remind you that me AND my ponytail were here first?”

Okay, so that wasn’t _ exactly _ how Adrien had planned on doing this, but it seemed as good a way as any to put the information out there. Playful was good. Playful was safe. Playful meant he could run back under the cover of “just kidding!” if things went south. Toying nervously with his baton, Chat watched as confusion, suspicion, then finally recognition broke across his teammates faces, bracing for whatever reaction was to come. 

Carapace was the one to break the tense silence. “So you’re…?”

“Trans,” Chat confirmed. He tried on a nervous smile. “Surprise?”

“You’re— oh! I… Sorry,” Queen Bee mumbled, embarrassment threading through her words and reddening the skin beneath her mask. The heroine quickly cleared her throat, replacing her contritrite expression with her usual mask of superiority. “In that case, you look nice I guess. At least people won’t get us mixed up anymore. Though the hair could still use some shaping if you ask me.”

Having been friends with her since they were in diapers, Adrien knew that was as close to a compliment as Chloe ever gave. More than that, it was an _ acceptance _; One that shot straight to his rapidly beating heart. A grin tore across his face like wildfire through a wheat field, spreading quickly to the faces of his teammates as they rushed forward to greet him. In her usual fashion, Rena elbowed her way to the front of the pack, grabbing the bottom of Chat’s face and tilting his head for a good examination. 

“Nice?” she repeated incredulously, suited hands moving from his jaw to ruffle his newly-shorn locks. “I think he looks drop-dead handsome!”

“I won’t if you keep doing that!” Chat laughed, caught between ducking away from her pets and leaning into the touch. The lump in his throat now had an entirely new reason for being there, but he found it wasn’t too hard to swallow down. Not with that sweet rush of relief flooding his veins, mingling with his lingering nerves in a dizzying cocktail that had him rocking on the balls of his feet in utter glee. 

(_ Handsome… He was handsome! _)

“Don’t worry, Dude,” Carapace interjected, nudging Rena aside to throw one arm around Chat’s shoulder in a firm side hug. “My barber can fix that right up for you.” He pulled Chat in close, fake whispering in his ear. “Between you and me, it’s a relief knowing I'm not the only guy around here.”

Queen Bee scoffed, having apparently recovered from her earlier slip enough to roll her eyes. “Yeah, cus us Ladies treat you so horribly, huh?” 

“Listen, I’ve been woefully outnumbered for too long. Let me celebrate, okay?”

Rena’s face lit up. “Hey yeah, let’s celebrate! What do you say? Skip the patrol and party all night?” Her amber eyes slid over to where their unofficial leader stood separate from the group, uncharacteristically quiet since his arrival. “What do you say, Ladybug?”

Ladybug blinked hard at the question, looking bewildered as she struggled for an answer. “Um…”

“Maybe another time,” Chat interjected, having known his partner long enough to recognize when she was overwhelmed. He tried not to let it get to him. “We’ve got work to do tonight. Right, M’lady?” 

The nickname seemed to snap her back to reality. Ladybug shook her head like a swimmer trying to get water out of their ears, clearing her throat before she spoke. 

“Y-yes. Work. Let’s see… Why don’t you three start sweeping the outer arrondissements? Chat—” She glanced at him for confirmation, to which he nodded. “Chat Noir and I will tackle the city center.” 

The trio agreed, vaulting off to their assigned patrol routes with a practiced ease... and then there were two. Two partners. Two friends. Two people in tacky spandex staring awkwardly at one another. 

“Hey,” Chat greeted softly, his earlier bravado slipping away. 

Coming out to his team was one thing, but Ladybug— _ Marinette _ , was different. There was history there, feelings they hadn’t quite resolved yet, even after their identity reveal. She was one of, if not THE most important person in his life; The person he trusted, confided in, and cared for more than anyone else. She was simultaneously the one person Adrien _ knew _ would love and accept him no matter what, as well as the one rejection he wouldn't be able to recover from, and her lack of reaction had his heart on a razor’s edge.

“Hi,” Ladybug echoed at last, pulling him out of his own mind. She held his gaze, her blue eyes radiating nothing short of pure _ joy _and her previously unreadable expression quivering it’s way into a watery smile. “Can I hug you?”

Chat nodded, half-choked with relief. “Do you even have to ask?” 

He was reaching for Ladybug before she even stepped towards him, unknowing of how much he needed her touch until she was there. The hug was like many others they’d shared over the years, loving and effortless, but something about the context made it feel special. _ New. _ Ladybug sunk seamlessly into his embrace, rolling to her tiptoes in order to lock her elbows around the back of his neck, and Chat buried his face into the top of her head with a contented sigh.

“How long have you known?” she murmured into the embrace.

“A while,” he answered simply, unwilling to dive into that particular conversation right now. “I just... needed some time before I was ready to share.” 

“I’m really glad you did.” Ladybug gave him one last squeeze before pulling back, clearing her throat and discreetly wiping at her bottom lashes. Once they were free of any lingering tears, her eyes danced down his costume, marveling with the gaze of both a seamstress and a friend. “You look good. Did Plagg help with this?”

Chat took this as an opportunity to put on an impromptu fashion show, strutting across the rooftop and posing with more enthusiasm than all his past photoshoots combined. This was much to the amusement of his Lady, who “oohhh’d” and “aahh’d” with the appropriate amount of wonder, clapping as he bowed at the end of his makeshift runway.

“Yeah, we made some changes,” Chat finally answered through a laugh, dropping the act to run his hands down his new costume. He grinned. Amazing how much difference a built-in binder, some clever bits of padding, and 8 cm heeled boots could make. “Plagg still wouldn’t let me have a lion’s mane, though. That little bastard.”

“I don’t think that would be very practical,” Ladybug giggled, and he could tell she was picturing him with a fluffy coat sprouting from his shoulders. He imagined it often. 

“Practical-schmactical,” Chat dismissed, fanning the notion away. “So... Do you have any questions for me? I can’t guarantee I’ll have answers but I promise I won’t get mad at you for being curious.” 

Ladybug looked thoughtful, tilting her head a few times before she finally spoke. “Does this mean you’ll be coming out as, uh… as a civilian?”

“Eventually,” Chat answered rather wistfully. It was one of those questions he himself was still working on an answer to. “Maybe over the summer. I’m starting with Chat Noir for now, but I already have a name picked out and everything.” He rubbed the back of his neck, exhaling a humorless laugh. “I’m just working on the best way to tell my father without getting disowned.”

Ladybug’s expression grew stormy. “You know I’m here for you, right? So are Chloe, Alya, and Nino. My parents too. They’ve had your adoption papers drafted since the day they met you. If you need anything at all, you know where to get help.”

“I know,” Chat affirmed, smiling as her hands reached forward grasp his. She gave him a tight squeeze. He squeezed right back. “We should probably get this patrol going, huh?”

“We should,” she agreed, trailing into a sigh. A moment later, Ladybug’s lips quirked dangerously, her eyes taking on a sudden mischievous gleam. “Race you back here?”

Chat made a grand show of considering her offer. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe we should take our time and really —ONE TWO THREE GO!” 

“You dirty rotten cheat!” Ladybug yelled at his retreating back, the tell-tale _ twang _ of her yo-yo almost drowned out by his unbridled laughter. Two pairs of feet pounded the rooftop, one quickly gaining on the other before they were neck in neck. Both heroes reached the building’s edge at almost the exact moment, exchanging a final look before vaulting effortlessly over the precipice.

Ladybug and Chat Noir shot off in a blur of black and red, their bickering teases echoing into the Parisian night, and in all his years of hero-ing Adrien had never felt closer to flying.

* * *

Like every morning, breakfast was a quiet affair.

Adrien’s father was still giving him the cold shoulder after the hair cutting incident, making his displeasure known by withholding what little affection Adrien had come to expect from the man. As if a shorter hairstyle was the very end of his modeling career. As if it wasn’t just going to grow back anyways. 

Adrien stared at the meal before him, something healthy and wholly un-appetizing, before slowly pushing the plate away. He hadn’t slept much the night before, what with the lingering nerves and excitement from coming out to his team keeping him up till the early morning. Plus there was Marinette, who’d texted him almost non-stop after their patrol— Not that Adrien was complaining! Last evening had gone spectacularly well. His team had taken to his new name and pronouns without so much as a slip-up, and now that things were out in the open for Chat Noir, Adrien knew his superhero alter ego was going to become even more of a sweet escape for him.

It felt good to be out. Better than good. It was light and wonderful and... _ authentic. _ it made Adrien wish things were like that always. 

It made him brave enough to try.

“Do you ever wish you had a son?”

“No,” Gabriel answered without looking up from his tablet. “Raising one child on my own is hard enough. I can’t imagine parenting two.” 

The stark dismissal was almost enough to send Adrien running back to safety, but still he powered on. “I’m not talking about siblings. I just meant... When I was born, did you ever wish I had been born a boy?”

“Your gender was of no consequence to me. We wanted a child, your mother gave birth to you, and I was content.” Gabriel’s fingers paused in their frenzied tapping long enough for him to cast a heavy glance at the portrait hung to his left. “Though strangely enough, your mother swore you were going to be a boy. She seemed surprised when the delivery room nurse told her otherwise.”

Adrien’s heart squeezed tight. He’d never heard that story before. 

A part of him wished he’d been told earlier, as it would’ve been a great comfort when he’d first started questioning things, but another part of him took it as a sign. His mother’s way of saying she was with him for this conversation. That she was on his side.

“She was right,” Adrien said softly, fingers balled into his lap. 

Gabriel’s eyes drifted from the image of his wife to focus on Adrien. “What?”

“Mother was right,” Adrien repeated, louder now. Adamant. “I am a boy. Er, I mean—” He cleared his throat, sitting up straight and speaking from the chest. “I’m a young man.” 

Thus fell a keen silence.

“You’re sure?” Gabriel questioned after a small eternity. His expression was unreadable. 

Adrien nodded, meeting his father’s gaze even as his hands shook beneath the table. “I’m very sure.”

The air between them was heavy, expectant, and Adrien almost wished his father would just get on with the meltdown already. Wished he would scream and rant and throw things like he usually did. _ Anything _ besides this maddening silence. 

Adrien waited, bracing for the inevitable tantrum, but much to his surprise, it never came. His father merely let out a put-upon breath. Not quite a sigh, but close to one. 

“Then I suppose arrangements will need to be made,” Gabriel stated, his eyes and fingers returning to his tablet. “I’ll call the agency and have you transferred to the junior menswear division starting next month. Your lessons will be postponed this weekend so Nathalie can take you out shopping for a more appropriate wardrobe.” Glancing up, he fixed Adrien with a stern look. “And I expect you to get that haircut fixed by a professional. Something clean and respectable. None of this... _ hippy-dippy man-bun crap _ I see all the teenagers wearing these days, do you understand?”

Adrien nodded mutely, a bit stunned by this turn of events. Where was the ranting? The denial? The threats to take away his every source of happiness if he didn’t fall mutely in line?

Who was this man and what had he done with his father?!

“Good,” Gabriel responded, now idly stirring his coffee. “You were long overdue for a rebranding anyways. Something a bit more mature. More appropriate for your age. I assume you’ll be going by a different name?

“Y-Yes Sir,” Adrien replied once he’d found his voice. “I like Adrien.”

“Adrien Agreste,” his father pondered aloud. He frowned slightly. “You don’t think it’s too... alliterative? I don’t want it to sound fake. Perhaps we should consult the PR team first and see what they say.”

“No,” Adrien answered, the ferocity of that single word drawing a raised brow from the man across the table. “My name is Adrien Agreste.”

Gabriel stared. Scrutinized. Examined the individual before him as if they were strangers just now meeting. Blond hair, high cheekbones, his late wife’s striking green eyes— Staring back at him was the same teenager who always showed up to breakfast. The same child he’d fed and clothed and provided for all these years. The same baby he’d sworn to love even before they’d come kicking and screaming into the world. And yet... 

Adrien squirmed slightly under his father’s inspection, tensing as the man opened his mouth. He looked like he wanted to say something further, something _ more _, and Adrien wasn’t quite sure what to hope for. 

_ “I love you”? _

_ “I accept you”? _

_ “I’m going to support you in every way I can. Not just with the things that impact your modeling career”? _

Gabriel broke their staredown with a swift shake of his head, grabbing his coffee and taking a deep sip. 

“Very well. Adrien it is,” he said, setting his cup down with a strange sense of finality. The clink of china against lacquered wood echoed in the cavernous dining room. “There’s not much to be done about your current print ads, but I’ll be sure that any future publications reflect this change.” 

And with that, Gabriel returned his full attention to the tablet below, fingers tapping purposely against the screen as his free hand went for his fork. That was it. Conversation over. He just continued on like nothing had happened, and Adrien didn’t quite know how to feel about that. A sigh worked it’s way past his lips entirely without his permission.

“Is there something else you wanted to discuss?” Gabriel questioned, his eyes flicking momentarily up from his work. Adrien nodded hesitantly.

“I’d like to start hormones.”

Now _ that _ got him a look, but Adrien took it in stride. Honestly, he hadn’t even planned on making it this far. The most he had hoped for from his father was a continued roof over his head and maybe a lack-luster attempt at using new pronouns. Might as well see how far this support was going to extend.

Gabriel worked his fingers underneath his glasses to massage the bridge of his nose. “We will consult with your doctor about whether or not that would be appropriate and safe at your age. I will defer to her professional opinion.” 

Adrien’s lips pulled into a tight frown. That wasn’t the answer he’d been hoping for. He opened his mouth, prepared to plead his case, when a familiar, businesslike ringtone filled the dining room. Adrien deflated.

“Excuse me, I need to take this,” Gabriel said, cutting off whatever objection was to come. He stood, frowning down at the caller id. “You can direct any further concerns to Nathalie.”

“Yes Sir,” Adrien replied, trying and likely failing to keep the disappointment out of his voice. Knowing his father, this would probably be the last time they spoke of anything relating to his transition. There was no heart-to-heart on the horizon; No tear-filled hug of love and acceptance. Gabriel wasn’t the touchy-feely type. Not even close. His parenting style mainly consisted of deflection and bribery, and Adrien already knew exactly how this was going to play out.

This “situation”, like many others before it, would be swiftly dumped in Nathalie’s lap, where it would stay until enough money had been thrown at it to placate Adrien into never mentioning it again. His physical needs would be met, his material needs exceeded, and his emotional needs swept under the carpet. Then Gabriel would pat himself on the back for another parenting win, and Adrien would convince himself that his father was doing his very best.

Resigned to another lonely breakfast, Adrien watched his father stride out of the room without so much as a backwards glance, releasing his lingering anxiety in the form of a sigh. _ ‘Well, that could have gone worse,’ _ he silently reasoned. A small consolation, but a consolation nonetheless. He’d take his father’s cold, businesslike acceptance over his outright rage any day. It was, at the very least, a start. 

Gabriel was already halfway down the hall when he finally answered the phone, his irritated greeting echoing clearly back to where Adrien sat sullenly pushing the eggs around his plate “I hope whatever you’re bothering me about is important enough to interrupt breakfast with my son-”

Still picking half-heartedly at his meal, Adrien bit down a sudden grin. 

Yes, it was definitely a start. 


End file.
